


(here's to the) prom queen

by Anne (Second_hand_news), Second_hand_news



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Normal High School, F/M, M/M, Prom Queen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 22:01:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30062181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Second_hand_news/pseuds/Anne, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Second_hand_news/pseuds/Second_hand_news
Summary: “Gansey-man!” Henry chides, Malory immediately shutting him up with a harsh ‘sh!’ and a low grumble about how much he hates American children.Henry holds his arms up defensively before removing a neon yellow piece of paper from the defaced pocket of his Levi’s (they had Madonna lyrics written all over them, and Gansey would probably make fun of him for it if he didn’t have a secret Pinterest board of just George Harrison’s face) and extends it to Gansey.“We just finished counting votes and you’re  officially on the prom king roster!” Henry whispers (or spits) “and so is-“He cuts himself off, his gaze drifting towards Ronan who had since finished his artful attack on Blue’s forehead. She sat with her back straightened and her fishnet legs crossed over one another, her chin as lifted and poised as Jordan Baker’s.In impeccable, meticulous calligraphy (Ronan had been told on more than one occasion that he’d probably do a lot better in school if he used “creative energy” in a more “productive way”), Ronan had written “prom queen” across Blue’s forehead.“Surprise, Dick.”
Relationships: Richard Gansey III/Blue Sargent, Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	(here's to the) prom queen

**Author's Note:**

> based off of Peter mcpoland’s here’s to the prom queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ronan.” He whispered, silently suspecting Ronan’s presence in the library was not because he was supposed to be here, but because he knew Gansey couldn’t yell at him without risk of breaking his relationship with Professor Malory, the school librarian. “Jane’s forehead is not a canvas.”

Ronan Lynch was writing something on Blue Sargent’s forehead. 

Usually, by second period, Gansey still had enough energy to endure Ronan’s antics. He’d known him for too long to be phased by his annoying disposition. But, for some reason, he’d barely been able to hold eye contact with anyone since he heard he’d been nominated for prom king. 

So, when he sees Ronan Lynch putting a black sharpie to Blue Sargent’s forehead, brushing her uneven strands of hair out of the way with his massive hand, Gansey almost loses it. 

“Ronan.” He whispered, silently suspecting Ronan’s presence in the library was not because he was supposed to be here, but because he knew Gansey couldn’t yell at him without risk of breaking his relationship with Professor Malory, the school librarian. “Jane’s forehead is not a canvas.” 

“Oh, calm the fuck down, Dick.” Ronan answers, not even sparing Gansey an amused glance, too busy defacing Blue’s, well, face. “Maggot asked me to.” 

“I can speak for myself, Gansey.” Blue grumbles. 

Gansey nods wordlessly, because unlike Blue, who willingly gave Ronan Lynch a permanent marker and full access to her forehead, he did not have a death wish. He doesn’t even know why he reprimanded Ronan in the first place knowing 1) Ronan never listens, and 2) Blue wouldn’t let anyone do anything within her immediate vicinity that she had not directly asked for. 

(Gansey knows this from the copious amounts of debates they’d had across their basically matching schedules, as well as when they had sex during a disastrous toga party at Henry Cheng’s house). 

Speaking of Henry: 

“Gansey-man!” Henry chides, Malory immediately shutting him up with a harsh ‘sh!’ and a low grumble about how much he hates American children. 

Henry holds his arms up defensively before removing a neon yellow piece of paper from the defaced pocket of his Levi’s (they had Madonna lyrics written all over them, and Gansey would probably make fun of him for it if he didn’t have a secret Pinterest board of just George Harrison’s face) and extends it to Gansey. 

“We just finished counting votes and you’re officially on the prom king roster!” Henry whispers (or spits) “and so is-“ 

He cuts himself off, his gaze drifting towards Ronan who had since finished his artful attack on Blue’s forehead. She sat with her back straightened and her fishnet legs crossed over one another, her chin as lifted and poised as Jordan Baker’s. 

In impeccable, meticulous calligraphy (Ronan had been told on more than one occasion that he’d probably do a lot better in school if he used “creative energy” in a more “productive way”), Ronan had written “prom queen” across Blue’s forehead. 

“Surprise, Dick.” 

-

It’s not surprising that the perpetual lazy Aglionby student body suddenly caught some sort of second wind now that prom is next week. 

The halls are lined with posters made of construction paper, and, to Noah Czerny’s loud enjoyment, glitter. 

At the center of the buzz clutching a clipboard and wearing a hot pink bralette stood Orla Sargent, Blue’s cousin and the bane of her very existence.

(Gansey doesn’t dislike Orla. Neither does Blue. She’s been the most effective student council President Gansey can assume Aglionby’s ever seen, but this didn’t mean her existence made Gansey, and Blue for that matter, particularly excited about school functions.) 

“Richard Cambell Gansey III!” She calls, placing her clipboard in her vice president’s arms before heading towards Gansey on the other side of the hallway. “I’m sure you’d be delighted to make a donation to your senior prom committee.” 

Gansey’s face heats up, as if the money stored in his chino pocket began to glow loud and obvious. His well perfected social dance comes back to him quickly, and he’s already reading for his wallet, saying, “I can definitely-“

“I’m just joking with you, Dick.” She grins much to Gansey’s chagrin. “Who are you voting for to be your queen?” 

The sound of it almost makes Gansey cringe, but he composes himself long enough to choke out “Blue.” 

Orla laughs in a way that straddled the line between good natured and mean. “You think she’ll win?” 

“I’m not sure, but she’s my friend after all.” 

“So nice you are!” She pinches his red cheek. “You hear that, Blue?” 

“Orla, I told you we don’t talk at school.” 

Gansey couldn’t even get through a discreet breathing exercise before Blue Sargent materializes beside him, clad in a distressed denim jumpsuit covered head to toe in buttons (courtesy of Ronan) advertising her prom queen run. 

“Gansey’s gonna vote for you because you’re his friend!” Orla coos, throwing an arm over Gansey’s shoulders and squeezing him tight. “You would be quite the pair.” 

“Well, I’m not exactly sure winning’s in my cards….” 

“Oh, stop being so humble! Your nomination basically secured your seat.” Orla slaps his arm playfully. “You’re basically king around here anyway.” 

Blue watches him critically before turning away without a goodbye, blending into the current of students rushing to class. 

Orla whispers “she’s plotting.” 

“Ya.” Gansey answers. “I know.” 

-

Gansey supposes the only thing that stopped Blue Sargent from murdering him painful and slow was the arrival of Southern bell Adam Parrish second semester freshman year. 

Whenever Gansey attempted to sleep, whispering to whatever God might be up there in hope of some shut eye, he thanked them for sending Adam. For the regular reasons like friendship, humor and homework help, of course, but also for ending Blue and Gansey’s ongoing feud for number one on the academic roster. 

Adam had very quickly eclipsed them both, taking his rightful seat on the throne of Aglionby’s best and brightest. 

From the outside, Adam was all soft edges and light hair and expanses of tan skin. 

(Gansey, in weak and confused moments, would often watch the muscles in Adam’s back move about as he pulled his Coca-Cola t-shirt over his head in the gym locker room. He would never tell Blue or Noah or Ronan or Henry about this because he knows they’d never let it go.) 

However, when Adam opened his mouth, he revealed his razor sharp wit, even sharper mind and his immovably stubborn disposition. 

Naturally, he and Blue Sargent got along swell. 

(So swell, they even dated for a fitful 24 hours during the summer after freshman year. Gansey, who had subconsciously desired Blue since, well, forever, couldn’t even find it within himself to be jealous.) 

So it’s no surprise that when Gansey visits Adam at Boyd’s auto shop, one of Adam’s three after school jobs, the words “Blue Sargent for Prom Queen” are scrawled across his arms in Ronan’s unmistakable calligraphy. 

“Parrish? With an interest in prom? Unheard of!” Gansey remarks, sinking into a nearby stool. Adam looks up from the opened hood he’s bent over, a smear of oil on his freckled cheek bone. 

“Gansey! Nominated for prom king? Unthinkable!” Adam smirks. 

“Do I not emanate kingly energy?” 

“No, no.” Adam says, a smile present in his voice. “Just seems a bit cliche is all.” 

“Well, you know me.” 

“If we’re going according to cliches, can I godfather your children with Blue, or does Ronan get that job?” Adam asks, feigning seriousness. Gansey flushes, running a hand through his dark curls. 

“Well, if we’re going according to cliches, you and Ronan will co-parent. And do you seriously think I would make any kind of decision involving Blue or her hypothetical children without her input?”

“Touché.” 

Gansey chuckles as Adam closes the hood of the car, settling on the ground adjacent to where Gansey’s seated. “Does that mean you’re asking Ronan to prom?” 

“Does that mean you’re asking Blue to prom?” 

“Stop deflecting.” 

Adam (self possessed, controlled Adam) is suddenly very red and very twitchy, his long fingers automatically finding the back of his neck and scratching boyishly. “Not really Lynch’s thing.” 

“Normally, I’d agree with you.” Gansey says. “But judging by how he’s already designed a campaign poster for Blue, he’s made it quite clear that prom’s on his mind.” 

“You think?” 

“I assume he’s probably picked out matching corsages for the two of you as well.” 

Adam chuckles. “I mean, that’s nice to, uh, think about...” 

“Adam, he made you a mixtape, please ask him to prom.” 

“Are you asking Blue then?” Adam counters, his face coming back to its normal Henrietta summer glow. 

Of course the thought had crossed his mind. Of course he’d thought of it about a million times today alone, watching Blue march around with her chin held high, chuckling with Ronan and standing atop a table during lunch to cause her usual social justice related ruckus. 

She’d wear a dress made out of recycled water bottles or a suit that matched Gansey’s or whatever the fuck she wanted to wear, and Gansey would walk into the gym that’s been decked out with colored streamers and tinsel, dressed like the rich prick he was, and be unabashedly proud to be on her arm. 

But Blue had made it abundantly clear to him that if she were to go to prom, she would never go with a date. 

(She had also made it abundantly clear that she’d never go with him specifically. Never date him at all.) 

He had already assumed that once high school ended, Gansey would go to Oxford, become a lawyer or a politician, live lonely and become as boring as he’d always suspected himself to be, and Blue would change the world, always without him. 

There was no real point in trying to change this seemingly inevitable fate, this timer they’d seemingly set after the first time they’d slept together. 

Though something inside told him otherwise, he and Blue were not high school sweethearts, were not meant to last beyond the superficial teenage years and locker lined hallways of their tiny school in their tiny town in their admittedly tiny lives. 

“No.” Gansey rasped, not intending to sound so tired, so deflated. “I don’t think so.”


End file.
